The Road to South West Baywalk
by Night Strider
Summary: Rukawa and witchcraft? It all started with the mirror and the beach and Mitsui on the bench. A simple magical realism about Rukawa and his sempai. MitRuRuMit. One shot.


The Road to South West Baywalk

Disclaimer: I don't own SD boys, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.

Summary: Rukawa and witchcraft? It all started with the mirror and the beach and Mitsui on the bench. A simple magical realism about Rukawa and his sempai. MitRu-RuMit. One shot.

A/N: This is inspired by Nick Joaquin's Guardia de Honor. Not too much humor here (just a load of sap, sap, and more sap! hehehehe) but anyone's free to comment on this anyway. for the nth time, this is inedited so just pretend that you don't spot the errors, ok? Enjoy...

The Black Book lays open on the cold floor. 4 candle lights flicker at the faint whistle of the midnight zephyr. The orange glow partly lights the room in a round space but everything else is pitch black and shapeless like the liquid matter. An icy air hovers about to subvert the noon time heat and to give a damp sensation to the living; the kind of chill that suggests a frightful, ghostly evening. A full mirror stands stolidly in front of the illuminated area, and in its reflection is a lad barely out of his early teens. White as a wraith and still as the motionless skies, the boy throws a speculative glance at his shivering reflection. A serious thought seems to linger in his expression and his steady frown has been as is since the second he faced himself. Something inside him debates the action he is about to take; one instant, he will reach out for the mystical book, the following one, he will be restrained by a nameless force and be reduced to a momentary silence. The book will lay untouched yet a second will sweep by to disturb the lad once in a while, and the urge will well up again to lift the accursed thing up.

Hesitation and curiosity mingle to create confusion. But Kaede Rukawa isn't the kind who will care about possible outcomes; devil may care attitude he's got. Let the heavens fall and hell rise if he opens the book; it isn't his business to worry after that. He bends over and picks the thing up, browses the dog eared page and absorbs the instructions;

1) Stand before the mirror and close your eyes. 2) Recite the given Christian formula prayers 3 times sans amen. 3) Chant the names of the principal warlocks; Ulyaoth, Pargon, Mantorbok, Pargon, Xenotath, Pargon, Redgomor, Pargon, Pargon. 4) Be ready to glimpse at the future.

Rukawa rehearses the steps. Sweat begins to sprout out from his temples and forehead; a thud underneath his skin can almost be heard by his reflection who's reacting as if he were vis-à-vis with a specter. Rukawa realizes that the last minute chooses fear as his mood and the formerly flippant soul inside him cowers at this devilry. Why does he have to chicken out now? He breathes in and out five times until finally subjecting himself to the dark arts. Come what may.

Rukawa pops his eyes open to be greeted by his own reflection. Nothing new; he's still 16 years old with ebony black hair and a pallid face. He looks around and the Rukawa in the mirror does likewise; same furniture and stuff are surrounding him. Candles are still burning and their wax is not even remarkably shortened; meaning, this ISN'T the future, this is still NOW. Only 3 minutes drifted by and that's when he presided over the 4 steps prior to that. Darn. The damned book says it will get him to the future; what a sham. Rukawa's upset enough to kick the mirror or better yet, to send the spurious book burning in heck. But that will just plunder him of energy so instead he brushes away to switch the lights on. Before he moves out of the light, a blank voice emits his name.

Rukawa's legs get rigid as his steps slow to a full stop. Who the hell is pulling a trick on him at 12:08 in the evening? Unless it's hallucination, something authentically fishy is going on here. He mutters a low hmmph to test his auditory system; it isn't dysfunctional, he's hearing things just right. Even the weak whispers of the wind that swim past him are filtered by his eardrums. But who could-

'Kaede.'

A monotonous and hollow voice. Its familiarity is endearing; one that he's been hearing since he woke up to the world of epistemic awareness. Rukawa gets suddenly shirty for some reason; nobody has the right to address him in his first name. But then, he hears it again; this time more clearly and singular than the first one.

'Kaede.'

He will ignore it. He will reach out for the damn light switch and the fluorescent will take care of it; whatever fucking ghost is playing with him will be murdered by the bright lights. He will conk off in a minute because there are classes tomorrow and another incurred tardiness will kick him out of that damned alma mater. He wouldn't like it to go that way. He will forget every crazy thing that's happening this night. No big deal. Something weird just comes to visit him and that puny something isn't worth a split second of disappointment. Yes, he will.

But the will never really turns into deeds and Rukawa remains stiff, probably out of fear or...out of intense fear. His irritation bolsters up to its peak. He's going to confront this buggy fucker and give him a midnight knuckle snack. Rukawa does a backlash and turns around, like the ones in action movies when they're in a duel. Obscure candle lights are his only consolation from the dark; he surveys the room's parts to the meager light's capacity. No one's there.

'Kaede.'

The fucker. It's him again and his voice demands acknowledgement. Rukawa swings his glance side ways and vertically while burying his nails to his palms. He's honing himself for a mega punch; he'll get the asshole alright.

'Here.'

'Huh?' Rukawa's eyes swell disturbingly as he catches the direction where the voice is springing from. The mirror...someone's inside the mirror.

But all Rukawa sees is himself. His very self who doesn't follow after his actual movements. That defies the laws of reflections. A sober realization sinks on Rukawa; the him in the mirror is his exact double; but it isn't his reflection.

'Who are you?' Rukawa asks, recognizing the numbness that's starting to poison his sanity. He tries to sound composed but only succeeds halfway as bewilderment takes him over.

'I am the future you.' says his reflection. 'You summoned me through that spell book and I am now to tell you of what's gonna happen to you.'

It sounds very much like the corny movies he sees in the television; in fact, it reminds him of the part in Aladdin when the genie puffs out of the stupid lamp. If the situation hadn't been this grave and staid, it would've turned out downright comical.

'Uh-huh.' Rukawa nods. His future doesn't matter now; anyway, what does it matter if he's seeing himself before his eyes? That's enough to make a chess master forget the whole alphabet.

'Kaede, a tragedy awaits you.' The future Rukawa presages solemnly. 'Approximately 17 hours from now, you will get your right ankle twisted. Tomorrow after school, you will take the SW highway instead of the shortcut and meet someone there who'll make you go to the NW local court. You will play alone for a while and at your 7th jump shot, 9 ft from the bucket 45 degrees to the left, you will land badly. Your right foot will be off to the side and it will bear all your weight. you'll be needing heavy medical attention after that and you will miss several games. Now, it's up to you to take the SW highway route or not.'

The reflection may seem like Rukawa in all aspects of the physical but the fact that he speaks in coherent and multi lined sentences makes the real Rukawa doubt his connection to this apparition. He's got that linguistic power that the present Rukawa will never have. What the hell. He's just probably a con spirit whose wiles border on making up threatening premonitions and scaring the wits out of silly boys like Rukawa by appearing on their bedroom mirrors.

'Listen, Kaede. Your choice in this matter is the pivotal moment of your life. Bad stuff may loom from both selections and good may come out of both ends as well. The bottom line is the unvaried cliché; it's all up to you.' The reflection says with an odd, pleading voice anyone would've seen his tremendous need for an answer. He's so un-Rukawa like.

Rukawa keeps his lips still. His vision is perfect and so as his hearing but for what it is, all these seem too vague to be grasped altogether. His brain is probably not as intellectually developed as that of Mozart and Beethoven, but why the crap does this very simple conflict seem so puzzling and complicated and incomprehensible like the Atlantis? What the future Rukawa is trying to get across is fairly easy to get; Rukawa must make a choice between getting injured or not. Hell, that's cock easy.

'Ok, I won't drive the SW highway.' Rukawa mumbles to his reflection who becomes thoroughly troubled by the un-minded response he just got.

'You must deliberate it to yourself. It's a consequential action; you can regret it if you don't let the accident happen. But if an injury and missing official games are the worst that can occur to you, I don't think I can help you. Think, Kaede. It's almost time.' The apparition's voice becomes weaker in magnitude as he starts to fade from the mirror's surface. Every bit of him is effaced the following second and strangely, a newfangled warmth begins to gun out from the former lethargy of the place. The milieu is now more conducive to comfort; thanks to it, Rukawa's trepidations are drained in a large scale.

The specter's gone and so is the frightening chill. Now he can doze off and begrudge a grain of memory to this awful night. But of course Rukawa's day won't be complete without a grunt of profanity; 'Darn.' He cusses quietly; it's his peculiar way of bidding himself goodnight.

Next Day.

Nothing unique sets this day apart from any other. Same faces, same buildings, relatively same weather, same rocky path is trudged by his bike's tires, same yellow sun that will evolve into something orange and big, and same fleecy clouds that don't get more active than the Fuji Mountain; everything's traveling in the same linear stream that begets one action and another; and expect that that action is no more exciting than watching yourself lose brains in the mirror. Tomorrow will be like this; not that yesterday was any different and you bet that today is just alike. Sigh.

Oh, and speaking of same everything, Rukawa will be receiving the same peach colored bouquets of roses with an unsigned 'I love you' note. Once he steps in the classroom, a neat bundle of peach roses will be waiting on his desk. He gets one every Wednesday and since today is Wednesday, there's no surprise that he'll get one. Well, not that it's the only thing he receives on weekdays, in fact he gets flowers everyday. But this peach bouquet is a peculiarity; for one thing, it is unsigned and it isn't red. All of the other flowers he gets from his fans and secret admirers are red. Red means there is a sensual attraction other than pure admiration; peach is...peach is gentleness, chaste love, and patient attraction. Unconditional crush, perhaps.

Kaede Rukawa bikes his way to school while dawdling with his Sony head phones, as usual. The only slight difference is his current music preference w/c is death metal rock and right now he's getting vibes on 'Rest in Peace' by Saliva as a sot guzzles on a barrel of alcohol. He listens to every clamor, every clang, and every beat of its rhythm, sometimes half awake but more often than a lot, he does this shut eyed while pedaling. All because of the unchanging pattern of everyday; he may as well predict what's gonna happen the next 20 hours.

Of course he knows his daily script; his life is a one episode sitcom that replays itself everyday. He is like a fish that once taken out of the water, will never learn how to breathe a different air being so exclusively used to this senseless life. He will yawn at class approximately 20 times a minute; and if he isn't doing that, he will eye the blackboard with patent boredom, palm on chin and elbow on desk, his lids will collapse and the teacher will get horrendously indignant again. He will be hauled to detention class but he will complain of a headache and suffice the remainder of his respite in the infirmary. This day he does this again until the fateful school bell rings to announce dismissal. Easy does it.

Rukawa drags his bike from the accursed building. Once beyond the gates, he boards himself to his vehicle and boots off. He drives by the SW highway; he's not going to use the alley shortcut because he wants to glimpse at the bay. He wants fresh air for a change; perhaps he doesn't want to be that incompetent fish anymore. The bay walk is just half a mile from Shohoku, he can practically get there in 8 minutes. He intends to watch the beach while the day is still on though he never really provided himself with that luxury before. But for now, he's wanting a change in the fullest sense of the term. He inches toward the place; it is considerably tight packed this day. He pushes the brakes and parks his bike on the gutter. Aiming for the benches, he discovers that only one of them is not wholly occupied; the rest are crowded by teenage cliques who don't have anything better to do than to get dramatic on the sea everyday. That one potential bench is filled by an individual who's obviously fanatically watching the flutter of the water sheets. His left arm is hanging at the back while his right foot is hoisted up on the seat. He has a bluish hair dye and his school uniform is that of Shohoku pupils'.

Hisashi Mitsui is sight seeing on the beach too?

'Sempai?' Rukawa saunters forward to satisfy his guess.

Mitsui swings his head. 'Rukawa? Hey, have a seat.' He smiles and gives space for the freshman. Rukawa accepts the gesture and slouches beside his senior.

Mitsui does something strange after that; he prims himself and assumes a sitting position that one can describe as the proper way. Then, apropos of nothing, he begins to hum Eve 6's 'Here's to the Night' in a rather sluggish tempo. Rukawa gets jitters in an instant; is this his sempai? The Mitsui he knows is a punk, an atrociously apathetic sow who won't stand a moment of angst in front of the beach while humming something as rhapsodic as 'Here's to the Night'. That Mitsui is always impatient for something like he's gonna catch a cold if he contains himself in one square meter ground and yes, he can't possibly want anything like this. This is practically goofing off.

'You always take this route, Rukawa?' Mitsui asks, still keeping his eyes on the waves. He must mean the high way where the beach is over looking.

'No. Just this day. I always take the shortcut.'

'So what's with today? Feeling like you need to catch the sea breeze too?' Mitsui says in a dispatched, this-is-so-not-me attitude. His eyes are somewhere off, somewhere high which Rukawa can't grasp altogether.

'I think so.' Rukawa says tersely. Coincidence; both he and his sempai are being plagued with a stupid longing to look at the sea for no apprehensive reason. And they have to be so at the same day.

'Hey, Rukawa. I'm getting bored.' Mitsui grumbles all of a sudden; this time, he detaches his sight from his lost reverie and lets it fall on Rukawa. So watching the beach is boring him out too. That's more like him, Rukawa thinks.

Rukawa pauses, and looks at his sempai whose eyes are now soaring directly to the depth of Rukawa's. It makes him shake a little; Mitsui's beautiful eyes are studying him like he's enjoying what he's doing and likes it and wants to stay like that for a while. Then a sense of awkwardness presents itself to both of them as Mitsui feels the necessity to speak again.

'Rukawa, I...' Mitsui's sentence falls in to pieces, shatters down, and gets lost. He's itching to say something to Rukawa; that face he's got right now seems like it's going to blow with an important confession and it can't wait some other time. It has to be now.

'Hmmm?' Rukawa emits; his technical expression in lieu of 'Yes, sempai?'

'I...I want to tell you something. Uhmmm, I don't know how. ok,' The senior stutters with a twitch and hastily breathes in the next second to gather himself, 'I've been hanging out here a lot lately after classes. I happen to know the street you live in and this road here (points at the highway) is the main way to get there from school. Well, I presumed that, errr, you take this route so I-err--for the last few days I've been sitting here...hoping that you'd bump here. This is the first time I've been successful in my effort 'cos I finally caught up with you.' Mitsui finishes, lounges his back lower, and sinks in to his seat. He taps his fingers on the wood bench; an indicative mannerism of someone who just blurted out something unexpected but meant it nevertheless. And by that look, who will have thought otherwise?

Rukawa squints at Mitsui with a naively inquisitive look. What, Mitsui has been waiting for Rukawa to pass this road? For how many days? Is he...?

But he is Rukawa's type. Mitsui IS Rukawa's type. Mitsui has been the cutest, most devilishly handsome guy in all the world...for Rukawa. He is this gangster who's roguish and rowdy and rough and tough and yeah; a bad boy with an irresistibly debonair smile. He has a certain conceit that fits him alone and the kind of wildness that sophisticated females find endearing, but cute nonetheless. Other cute guys in Kanagawa don't have the resembling charisma; Sendoh for one is a dyed in the wool pervert, Maki for another lacks aggressiveness and style, Hanagata's a bore, Kiyota's an animalistic maniac, Fujima is A girl, whereas Mitsui is...Sexy, powerfully sexy and behind it all, behind all the filthy cockiness, he is gentle at heart. And now, he's telling Rukawa that he's been wanting to bump into him in this baywalk a.k.a lovers' lane?

Rukawa will have many options on how to react; 1st, to be instantly muted but to make it clear that he understands. 2nd, to ignore Mitsui's hints. 3rd, to say he understands and confess that he desires the senior (too, if ever). 4th, to scram. 5th, to over react with excitement as if he were getting a hemorrhage. 6th, to kill himself with joy. 7th, God knows what. Rukawa settles on none of the above and realizes that to make Mitsui's words clear first is the right move.

'You're waiting for me, sempai? Why?' Rukawa asks meekly so as not to make his conjectures obvious.

But Mitsui stands up. Rukawa isn't able to catch his expression since the latter got his head the other way. Then Mitsui speaks in a solemn voice, 'I'll tell you later. Meet me at 5:30 in Kanagawa Local Basketball Court, bring a ball along in case I come in late. I'll see you.'

'Hai, sempai.' Rukawa replies with some thought; thoughts concerning this guy beside him. Mitsui can say anything; anything that Rukawa may or may not like. Oh, the suspense is almost suffocating the freshman.

Mitsui leaves as Rukawa's eyes trace his seemingly painful departure.

Then, as if an accidental thought hatches on him, Rukawa suddenly realizes that something's missing; the peach roses. He doesn't have one today, nothing was on his desk earlier. No peach roses for the day. How come...? Oh, to hell with those flowers.

Later...

Rukawa waits while slumping on the courtside. He decided to wear his gray long sleeve top and blue pants for the night. The sky has gotten darker and in a few minutes, the sun will be swallowed by the horizon; in that case, he and Mitsui will be up late. Rukawa has a notion that this is going to be a long meeting. Anyway, just like Mitsui told him earlier, he could bring a ball along in case the senior comes in late. And he is late. It has been 10 minutes since the appointed time in fact. Rukawa fiddles the ball with his fingers, unconsciously thinking about his senior's words. Mitsui said he COULD bring a ball a long; he didn't say Rukawa SHOULD. So that must mean they are meeting here for something other than basketball; well, Mitsui made it clear that he wants to say something to Rukawa.

Rukawa stands up, finally succumbing to the force of boredom inside him. He decides to take a few jump shots and sweat himself if Mitsui is another second late. And since it is so, Rukawa pulls the first jump shot. It is by the courtside, 180 degrees flat from the bucket, a 12 footer. A little of a faint, so and so miles per hour is its speed; then a pretty arch is traced through the air until it hits the bottom. In, as usual. Ball bounces lightly and echoes through the empty space; Rukawa picks it up for a second one. Still no Mitsui. This time, Rukawa decides to focus on his perimeter shooting so he will take jump shots all the way. And he takes the 2nd, then the 3rd, 4th, 5th...But he misses the 6th one. He tries again with more concentration, bends his knees a little, conditions his wrist, and swishes the thing out of his hands. 9 feet from the mark; Rukawa makes a delayed jump to heave up his weight. His hop comes in too late, too twisted; something's going wrong when he finally lands. His soles aren't yet prepared for the weight they are about to balance and yes, he's going to drop badly.

And he does. His right foot gets the entire mess of the injury because it misses to bear Rukawa's weight properly. Then he tumbles on his side; the rictus of pain on his right ankle begins to make itself known to the rest of his nervous system. He is writhing there with nothing to cling to, no one to cry to. He grabs his right foot, massages it gently only to magnify the harshness of the pain. It hurts like hell.

'ARGHHHHHH!' Rukawa shouts; he has never shouted so loudly all his life.

Then somebody hears him.

'Rukawa? Jesus Christ, what the hell happened to you?' Mitsui's voice pops out. He's arrived.

Rukawa looks at Mitsui amidst his obscure vision. Tears have begun to haze his eyes but that doesn't refrain him from seeing Mitsui's expression. Mitsui is in a disastrous state of panicking and he kneels beside Rukawa, tending the latter's bad ankle. Rukawa has never seen Mitsui this disconcerted before and it seems as if it were he, Mitsui, who's getting a terrible ankle twist.

'Oh my God. we're gonna get you to the hospital. Hang in there, Rukawa.' Mitsui splutters.

The next thing Rukawa knows is he's in a hospital bed and his feet are utterly numb. His right is pathetically cast in plaster and elevated by a string which makes Rukawa get the full picture of it; 'What an ugly sight.' Rukawa tells himself. He lays there, quietly cursing himself why he didn't listen to last night's warning. Following that, many questions come swarming in; Why didn't he believe the Rukawa in the mirror? Why did he have to take the damned SW highway? Why isn't it the warning enough to forestall him? Why the hell did he have to want that bloody sight seeing? If he didn't crave for it then he wouldn't-

'Rukawa? You're awake. Thank God...'

It's Mitsui; he's sitting very stiffly on a couch beside Rukawa's bed. He seems fresh from crying, even his eyes are tired and bloodshot. Rukawa learns then that he has been unconscious all the while.

'Rukawa, the doctor said it would take a week for you to recover. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you to bring a ball along.' Mitsui says in a grief-stricken voice.

Rukawa sighs. His very own self is the one to blame and he knows it; he deliberately made an effort to forget everything that was said last night. He tries to recall the chat with the image in the mirror. Clearly it was a warning but it wasn't exactly a warning to avoid this injury. It was more like an admonition to make the wise choice. Rukawa doesn't know the right choice but from the un-comfort that he's feeling now, it seems very likely that he made the stupid one. Empowered by the fact that he's gonna miss the practice games for a week. Gads. It's a very stupid choice indeed.

He breathes in again. Mitsui stands up from his seat and steps forward to Rukawa's bed. Then for the first time, Rukawa notices that Mitsui's in full bloom; he's fully straddled in a very stylish outfit, like the ones models strut in the runway. He's looking sexier and cuter than ever, Rukawa thinks.

'Rukawa, I'm sorry. I told you to meet me because...'

'Yes, sempai?'

'Because I wanted to be with you...tonight.'

'Huh?' Rukawa's heart is going to explode if not for the skeletal frame that blocks it.

'Yes. I'm sorry. I--it was a date I was meaning to have with you. In fact, I already reserved a restaurant, down there in Cable Car. Anyway, I didn't know how to say it with so many people around so I just told you to meet me somewhere else.' Mitsui hesitates and (So that's why he was late? To get a spanking get up like this one. Oh, brother.) goes on, 'I'm sorry it has to come to this but I'm such a coward I can't get anything revealed to you. Hell, i even forgot to tell you to dress up. hahaha.' He finishes with a nervous laugh.

'Sempai, I---I don't know--'

'You don't know what to say. I know. Well, you don't have to tell me anything as of now. I understand it came off as a little shock but Rukawa...I can't stop myself; I like you. I like you very much I'm going crazy.'

Rukawa's throat are too tight now and he can't manage the frailest syllable. Mitsui's hand starts to slide down Rukawa's arm; Rukawa responds by clutching the senior's arm. Mitsui smiles an ensnaring, saccharine smile. It all feels so insane for Rukawa.

'You miss my flowers, Rukawa?'

'Flowers?'

'Yeah, the peach ones on Wednesdays.'

'They're from you?'

'Yeah. hahaha.'

'Why is there none on my desk earlier?'

'Because I intend to give it to you personally today.' Mitsui simpers and points at the table beside Rukawa's bed head. A beautiful bunch of peach roses are placed on a small vase. Rukawa's eyes widen.

'Thanks, sempai.'

Rukawa looks at Mitsui and there reads the answers to his questions. If he didn't take the SW highway, then he wouldn't be injured, he wouldn't be in great physical pain, he won't be missing the next games, and he wouldn't be with his dear Mitsui today. Now he knows why the future Rukawa didn't forbid him to take the SW highway; he was destined to meet Mitsui along the road. But he could've at least omitted the 7th jump shot, neh? On second thoughts, it wouldn't have been this romantic if he didn't injure himself. So no regrets here, except perhaps for the pain. Oh, what does it matter, really?

'Rukawa?'

'Hmmm?'

'I like you very much.'

'Yeah, me too.'

Mitsui holds Rukawa's hand tighter, leans forward and gives the other what must've been the sweetest kiss in the History of Kanagawa.

END


End file.
